


If You Love Me Let Me Go

by storming_wolf



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Body Image, But he's a total teddy bear still, Cancer, Depression, High School AU, Homophobia, Jean is french and german, M/M, Marco is hispanic, Mentions of Cancer, POV First Person, POV Marco Bott, Triggers, depictions of self harm, depictions of suicidal actions, more characters added as they appear in story, punk!jean, some other stuff that i can't think of right now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:37:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2460197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storming_wolf/pseuds/storming_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school sucks. It was the same thing for 4 years, really. 5 classes per term, 3 terms to the year, crappy dances, drama, stress, test. In the end it was all pointless really. We forget half of the stuff we learn in school anyway.</p>
<p>But, it seems as if we never forget the torment. The names they called us, the one sided fights we didn’t want to be a part of. The countless nights spent crying and wonder what we did to deserve this.</p>
<p>That’s what I recall from high school.</p>
<p>But, one thing that I did learn that I’ll hold close to me forever happened in my 11th year. The year I met Jean Kirschtein</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first thing is first THERE ARE TRIGGERS IN HERE. PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE PAST THIS NOTE IF YOU THINK THIS WILL EFFECT YOU. 
> 
> Secondly, this is not romanticizing depression, self harm, body image issues, and suicide. Literally I'm trying to depict how a teen struggles with these things even though they have something good in their life. Basically I'm dramatizing my own mental issues through a fanfic as a therapy technique, hence the first person POV. And if you're struggling, hit me up at theamazingmarco on tumblr and we can chat 
> 
> Lastly I decided to make Marco half Mexican half Italian. I am Mexican so I'll slide in some culture and Spanish so don't think I'm being racist, I'm being real

My life sucks.

Yeah, I know every teenager ever says that at some point, but it truly freaking sucks for me.

My dad died when I was 7 from cancer. That was when it all started I guess. I was pretty messed up from that, I mean I think everyone would if they held their father’s hand as he slowly drown from the inside. And the lung cancer wasn’t even his fault, it was all from him working on a building that was filled with some crap that gave him cancer. The lawsuit covered the cost of our house, but I don’t want a house without my dad. I don’t think any kid does.

It only got worse from there. I was 10 when I realised I liked boys. I even had a boyfriend, but in the 5th grade, relationships are dumb little things to talk about in the lunchroom, and I wish it wasn’t, because then no one would know I was gay. I didn’t even think it was wrong or weird until we were bullied over it. I...I was so hurt when his family moved because of the bullying and he told me he never wanted to talk to me again because I ruined his life and he liked girls now. I later learned that his dad beat that into him.

I was left to face the torment of our little relationship. I wasn’t going to lie and say I suddenly liked girls, because I didn’t. My mom didn’t even know until the school called her.

It’s just a phase, Mrs. Bodt they told her. He’ll find a girl he likes soon and this will all be over they said. Maybe you should send him to one of those camps they suggested. I’m so happy I have the most awesome fucking mom in the universe, cause I got transfered from the Jinae school district to the Trost school district the next day. My mom promised me that she would fight for me to be able to be me. She even points out boys whenever we’re out. It made me happy.

Things at Trost were better. I was no longer being called faggot everyday. "Creep", sometimes. "Weirdo", mostly.

It wasn't until 7th grade that things started getting bad again.

We had gym class, but in junior high ER had to change infront of everyone. I kept to my corner and tried to act natural, not like I had just died and gone to gay heaven because it sure did feel like that at first. It wasn't long before the other guys started picking on me over my weight. I always knew I was a little chubby. I was only 5'3" and 70kg, an it never bothered me until they started to pick on me about it. I was a 12 year old boy who wanted to fit in. I googled how to lose weight fast and that's how I found this thing called pro-ana. I never wanted to be one of those people that aimed to be skeletal or promote the sickness, I only checked it out for diets and workouts at first. But then I was getting pissed because I still weighed 70kg when I was 13. Of course I didn't factor in the fact I shot up like 6 inches that summer. I was the perfect weight, but I couldn't see that. I always saw that chubby kid.

School got worse, if that was possible. "Worthless" was this year's new name. Let not forget "Nothing". It's like they wanted me to do what I did next.

Between my poor body image, internal gay conflict, dead father, and the worsen bullying, I started to self harm. I never wore a t-shirt, always my papa's old hoodie and pants.The worst part was that my mom didn't notice. She was always working and all I had to do was tell her I had a lot of studying to do and that I already ate.

High school was even worse. I was outed and I came home every day with bruises. I told my mom I was trying out for wrestling so that's why I was so bruised. I was always too tired to do anything anymore. I just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up, y'know.

I couldn't smile anymore. I could only fake it. Mama's little jokes about boys being boyfriend material grew old. I still fake laughed as she used that joke to break to me that she had to work late all week. And the week after that. And the week after that. And the week after....

I didn't ask for this life. I didn't ask for a dead father, I didn't ask to be depressed, I didn't ask to hate every part of my body, I didn't ask to be gay, I didn't ask to have a mom that worked all the time, I didn't ask for this godforsaken life. I just want to be happy. But I only get what I don't ask for.

So yeah, I do have a shit life. And I don't know if I'll have it much longer.


	2. My New Best Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to work on my research paper and I ended up on tumblr, then here. Oops. 
> 
> So yeah, I hope you liked the prologue and I can't wait to get this story going!

_I wanna stand up, I wanna let go_  
 _You know, you know, no, you don't, you don't_  
 _I wanna shine on in the hearts of men_  
 _I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand_

_Another head aches, another heart breaks_  
 _I'm so much older than I can take_  
 _And my affection, well, it comes and goes_  
 _I need direction to perfection, no no no no_

_All These Thing That I Have Done -_  The Killers.

* * *

 

Typically, my day starts when I walk through the doors of Trost High and my favourite person in the whole school(sarcasm enthusiastically used) draws my attention by using some sort of homophobic slur. Today, it was 'little gay boy', even though we're the same height and I'm older. I kept my face to the ground and tried to hurry to the piano lab. That didn’t happen though. Suddenly, I was pushed up against the locker, an arm against my neck pinning my head back.

“Didn’t you hear me talk to you, you little shit?!” Kris snarled in my face before kneeing me in the balls. Kristoffor Werner was the star of nearly every sport here, but wasn’t the smartest person around. Freshman year, I had to tutor him and it pissed him off being taught by a 'minority'. When he found out I was gay(by going through my phone when I left to get another book from the library) he told everyone and ever since I’ve been the resident big, gay, freckled freak.

“Hey, back off of him!” I heard a voice say. Kris dropped me and turned to the source of the voice. There stood a boy I had never seen before. Trost wasn’t really big, so it was easy to spot a new kid when you saw one. He was a little shorter than me and had a few piercings and was wearing a leather jacket, black skinny jeans, and a shirt that said 'Middle Fingers Up If You Don't Give A Fuck'.

“Who the fuck are you?” Kris asked.

“The one who’s gonna beat your ass for messing with someone innocent,” he said. “You seemed pretty pissed he didn’t pay attention to you, If you want him to kiss you, just ask man."

I turned red at this and I was pretty sure smoke came from Kris’ ears.

“You’re gonna pay for that you little bitch!” Kris charged at the stranger, but he ran right past him and over to me. He grabbed my hand and, in a very Doctor Who-esque way, told me to run.

Somehow we managed to escape Kris, hiding in a small stairwell on the second floor next to the art loft. Not many students knew about the stairwell, so how he found it on the first day is something I’ll never know.

“Are you okay?” he asked me. I nodded as I tried to catch my breath. “What the hell is with that guy anyway?”

“He’s been destroying my life since freshman year, I’m used to it,” I muttered. “I, uh, thanks.” I slowly turned and started to descend the stairs.

“Hey, uh, wait.” I turned to look back at him. Even in the dimly lit stairwell I could see his golden eyes and his amazing two toned hair. “I...I’m Jean.” I smiled at him.

“Marco,” I said. He smirked and turned away for a second, biting his lip as he faced me.

“Polo,” Jean chuckled and I smiled back at him. “I’ll see you around Marco?” He asked it more than said it, in a cute, kind of shyish way.

“Y-Yeah,” I said before continuing down the stairs.

* * *

 

My first class was advanced composition, and it sucked cause I sat in the front. Whenever the teacher wasn’t paying attention, someone would throw something at the back of my head. Usually it was a ball of paper that had ‘fag’ written on it. I tried to ignore it as I worked on my research paper, typing fast into my laptop. I heard the door open and paid no attention to it until-

“Class, we have a new student,” the teacher announced. “This is Jean Kirschtein. Jean, take a seat next to Marco. He’s a star student, I’m sure he’ll be able to catch you up to the assignment.” I turned red and looked at the seat next to me which soon became occupied with Jean.

“Told ya I’ll see you around,” Jean smirked. Somewhere deep inside me, I thanked whatever God there was for this. For him.

"So what's up in this neck of the woods?" he asked. 

"Boring boringness with a side of boring," I chuckled. "I like your shirt by the way."

"Ahh, thanks. I got it at this epic concert," Jean said.

"Bring Me To The Horizon?" I asked.

"Hell yeah," Jean said. He started up his laptop and I pulled out my binder, which was jam packed with papers. "Whoa, I hope that's not everything I need to know."

"It is," I chuckled. "Hey, blame your parents for moving 5 weeks into the school year. At least you came in perfect time for homecoming."

"Not really my kinda moshpit," Jean said. He looked through the binder. "Can you help me after school sometime?"

"Yeah, sure," I said. "We can work something out." I felt something hit the back of my head. I looked to see the ball of paper land on Jean's lap. He unballed it to find faggot written in big, red letters. I looked at my lap and tried to ignore it. The teacher had went to get some papers so there was really nothing to do about it.

"Hey, you gonna apologise?!" 

I turned to see Jean holding up the paper, looking at the group of jocks who were laughing. Jean balled it up and threw it at one of Kris' friends, Collin. 

Jean sat back down next to me.

"Hey you little shit!" Collin was coming at us with his fists ready to fight. My eyes grew huge and I gulped. Jean stood up.

"You really wanan fucking go over a piece of paper?" Jean asked. Collin swung and Jean doged it grabbing Collin's collar and slamming him into a desk. 

"I'd walk away," Jean warned. Collin spit in his face and Jean punched him square in the jaw. Collin kicked Jean in the chest and Jean's back hit the wall. Jean charged at him and they were full out fighting now. 

"Jean, stop!" I exclaimed, trying to pull them apart. Collin punched me in the face, the force knocking me into the wall. I hit my head and felt the world go black.

* * *

I blinked slowly as I tried to remember what happened. My head hurt really bad was all that I knew.

"Hey sleeping beauty."

I looked to find Jean, his face sightly bruised and his lip cut. He smiled as he sat on the cot next to me.

"You should see the other guy," Jean chuckled, pulling an ice pack off of my head that I didn't know had been there.

"What happened?" I asked. 

"Well I got suspended on my first day of school," Jean said. "And you hit your head pretty bad. Scared the shit out of me. We just met, you can't check out yet."

"I don't remember hitting my head," I said.

"Collin punched you in the nose. Thank god he didn't break your pretty face," Jean said. Okay, I must be out of it. No straight guy keeps calling another guy pretty. Especially me.

"I can take you home. I drive," Jean said.

"Yeah, that'd be nice," I said. Jean helped me up and to his car in the student lot. I gave him directions to my house and soon we were at my house.

"The nurse said it's not a good idea for you to sleep for 8 hours," Jean explained as he pulled into the driveway. 

"But I'm sleepy," I whined. Jean chuckled. 

"You can go to sleep around 4," he said. "I can stay with you to keep an eye on you. Is your mom or dad home?"

"No," I said. I didn't feel like getting into the whole dead father thing right now. I really just wanted to sleep. 

Jean follwoed me into the house. I lazily tossed my backpack onto the couch and made my way to the kitchen to get an icepack. I usually kept one frozen just in case I got beat up too badly. I grabbed two cans of soda. I lead Jean to my room. It was nothing extravagent. I had a full size bed in the middle of the room, a desk off to the corner, a dresser that doubled as a TV stand, an my prized possesion, my record player. A couple of posters were on the walls that were of bands, TV shows, and comic books. Jean took particular notice to my Winter Soldier poster.

"Dude, I love freaking Captin America!" Jean said. "Not even gonna lie, I'm full on homo for Chris Evans."

"Who isn't?" I smiled at him as I plopped on my bed. I pulled a crate from under my nightstand and pulled out my favourite record. 

"How do you feel about Tyler Joseph?" I asked.

"Who?" Jean asked. I nearly dropped the vinyl. 

"Oh Jean, get ready to fall in love,"  _WIth me_. Wait, what? 

I put the record on and the room was filled with the beginings of 'Ode to Sleep'. 

"I don't think it's your traditional music taste, but listen to the lyrics," I said. I sat cross-legged and watched Jean dissect the music in his mind. It was then I actually got a good look at him. His left eyebrow was pierced, he had 4 piercings on his ear, and he had piercings on his lips. Snake bites, I think they were called. He had taken off his leather jacket and I noticed a few tattoos. 

Once 'Ode To Sleep' finished, Jean gave a look of approval. 

"Actually really good. I wanna listen to the album more," Jean said. So we sat there listening to probably my favourite band of all time since Jean insisted on listening to their entire discography. I didn't have them all on vinyl, so we were sharing headphones on my bed just talking about nothing. It was nice. I guess that this was what having a friend was. I mean, Jean didn't even know me and he defended me against Kris, and then he got suspended over something that I haven't had the balls to say anything about. Jean was a true friend, and I wish I could stop noticing him because I knew he would never notice me the same way.

At least I had him as a friend. I've only known him for a day, and already I know that I'd rather have him in my life as a friend than nothing at all. I dunno, maybe we just click like that. A couple of misfits trying to make it through life a day at a time. And that was okay.


	3. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos! So I've made Marco hispanic, and I've slid a little spanish into the story (mainly to work on my own spanish speaking abilities) In chapters that contain it, I'll put the translations at the bottom notes. One thing you will see throughout the story though is Marco's mom call him mijo. Its an afficinate term meaning my son, and is a shortened verson of mi hijo. And also there is Marcito (Mar-Key-Toe), and my mom often added -ito or -ita to our names when she called us as kids and its essentially another sign of affection in families with hispanic backgrounds.

_I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you_

_Yes there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you._

_I've seen the paths that your eyes wander down_

_I want to come too_

_I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you_

_No one understands me quite like you do_

_Through all of the shadowy corners of me_   
_Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop - Landon Pigg_

* * *

 

One week later

I hissed as the cold water touched my wrists. I looked down as the water in the white porcelin turned sort of pink. My phone had went off when I was doing this and it made me jump, causing me to cut deeper than I wanted. Once I confirmed that it wasn’t seriously deep, I put neosporin over the wound and a big bandaid. As I closed the mirror, I looked up at my reflection.

“You’re such a dumb, worthless piece of shit,” I whispered to my reflection. I went into my bedroom and kicked the box I kept my razors in under my bed. I picked up my phone.

**5 New Messages from Jean Kirschtein**

***pebble. pebble. pebble.***

***pebble.***

***PEBBLE!***

***throws bolder at your window***

**Dammit are you even home? Are you sleeping? I’m outside.**

I looked out my window to see Jean waving.

“Good because I was about to throw an actual fucking rock at your window,” Jean smiled that devious smile I had come to love.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. I subcounciously looked at my wrist to make sure everything was covered.

“I come bearing gifts. Let me in to see them,” Jean walked to the front door and I met him there. When I opened the door, Jean was on knee. He looked up and dramatically grabbed my hand. I yelped in fear he would pull up my sleeve.

“Don’t be scared,” he smiled as he reached for something from his back pocket. He presented me with a single red carnation. “Will you go to homecoming with me?”

I stared at the flower as I felt all of my emotions rush in my mind. I felt like I was going to vomit as I saw the cold lifeless body holding the flower. I snatched my hand from Jean’s grasps and turned, taking deep breaths.

“Marco?” I felt him touch my shoulder. I pulled away and went into my living room. I heard the door shut and assumed Jean had left. Who wants to deal with a sobbing baby anyway? I knelt down infront of the pictures and candles that were on a table in the living room. I felt arms around me. Jean whispered that it was okay and to let it out. He let me cry into his shirt for a while.

“Who’s that?” Jean asked softly, gesturing to the memorial of my father.

“Marco Bodt the First,” I whispered. “My Papa. He...He died when I was 7. And he loved red carnations.”

“Marco, I’m so freaking sorry,” Jean gasped.

“I-It’s okay,” I sniffled as I took the flower from his hands. I placed it on the table and turned to Jean. He held me as I calmed down. I looked into his eyes.

“Yes,” I said quietly.

“What?” Jean asked.

“I’ll go to homecoming with you,” I said with a smile.

* * *

Jean had become somewhat of a celebrity at Trost. Everyone knew him as the guy not to fuck with since his fight with Collin. His bad boy attitude left all the girls swooning over him. It kinda made jealousy surge through me as I saw his locker filled with love notes from girls asking to go to homecoming. N-Not that I was jealous or anything. It’s not like I like him or anything..heh heh…

Anyway, everyone was talking about Jean, and since I was Jean’s only true friend that he hung out with, people were talking about me.

_“Isn’t that the gay boy?” I heard someone whisper as we passed._

_“Why is Jean hanging out with him?!”_

_“You don’t think Jean’s queer, do you?”_

_“Of course not. He fights too good to be a fag.”_

_“I wish Jean would hang out with me that much. He probably feels sorry for the little queer.”_

“H-Hey Jean, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll catch up later,” I said, giving a quick wave before disappearing in the crowd of people in the hallway. I made my way to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall. I stared at my wrist that had angry wilts all over them. I don’t know why I’ve been so hesitant lately. I had more slight scratches than actual cuts now.

“You can’t even hurt yourself properly, you gay, worthless piece of shit,” I whispered to myself as I dug an old pencil sharpener blade into one of the scratches. I held my breath as I heard the bathroom door open.

“Who does Kirschtein even think he is? He beats up one guy and everyone loves him,” fuck, it was Kris. “And all he does is hang out with his little fuck boy.”

“Is this about the homecoming king thing?” the other boy asked.

“He’s gone here a whole 2 weeks and he’s nominated? God, these girls must like pathetic punks nowadays. Too bad Bodt’s gay, they’d love his worthless ass,” Kris snickered. I slashed my wrist again, emotionless, painless. I took a sharp breath and I hear Kris get quiet. “Who’s there?!”

I stayed completely still. Eventually he left and I let out a sob. God, what would Jean see in me? I am worthless…

“Freckles?” Jean’s voice echoed in the bathroom. “Marco?” I wrapped a bandage that I kept in my backpack around my wrist and dried my tears.

“I’m here,” I smiled at him.

“Did you hear what happened?” Jean asked. “Me, homecoming king? Nah, it’s some mistake.”

“Well you are handsome…” SHUT THE FUCK UP GAY THOUGHTS.

“Aww, you’re not so bad yourself,” Jean smirked as we walked out of the bathroom. We headed to the busses. “I’ll pick you up at 6, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” I said. Jean pulled me into a hug. “Tonight is gonna be great.”

* * *

 

I wore a simple black shirt and red tie with my suit pants. I looked so terribly average. There was knocking at the door and I opened it to meet Jean.

Boy did he clean up well.

Jean was piercing free, his hair was brushed down instead of its usual spikeyness. He wore a black shirt, black tie, and black skinny jeans with converse.

“You look...wow,” I said. Jean clipped a red rose to my shirt, similar to the one he had. 

“No, you look wow,” Jean whispered in my ear. It sent shivers down my spine. I linked arms with him and we walked to his car. He drove us to the school where the gym was packed full of students and music. He held my hand as we made our way through the crowd. We stood off to the side of the crowd, kinda dancing to the music but moreso standing there and watching people dance. An hour into the dance, Christa Lenz, the president of student council stood on the stage.

“Okay everyone, it’s time to introduce the homecoming king and queen. Your homecoming king is...Jean Kirschtein!” Christa announced. The crowd cheered, mainly the girls. I clapped for Jean as he walked onto the stage, a plastic, gold crown placed on his head and a sash that read ‘homecoming king’ in bold letters.

“Alright, and your homecoming queen is...Marco Bodt?”

It was silent and I was frozen. I looked around for a minute before I felt someone nudge me. It was Armin. I slowly walked onstage and had the feeling this was a terrible prank. But slowly, people started clapping. Jean took the sash and crossed out queen and wrote king with a sharpie. He placed it and the crown on me and pulled me into a deep kiss onstage infront of the whole school. There were some gasps from the crowd.

“Alright, here’s your homecoming kings!” Christa seemed unfazed by this. A slow song started playing and Jean jumped off the stage with me. I was still in shock from every thing, but mainly the kiss.

“Was that too much for me trying to tell you I like you?” Jean asked.

“You what?” I asked. Jean kissed me softly.

“I’m big on dramatics, so I talked to a few guys and had them fix the polls. You appeared as a landslide write in vote,” Jean winked. “I hope you weren’t embarassed.”

“Of course not,” I smiled at him as he wrapped his arms around me.

“So what do you say?” Jean asked.

“To what?” I asked.

“To being Trost’s first homosexual power couple and changing things here for the LGBT plus community for good?” Jean asked. Couple. c o u p l e. A-As in boyfriends.

“I say I’m in,” I smiled. “No one should be afraid to be who they are here anymore.”

“And I’m starting with you,” Jean kissed me again and I melted into his lips.

* * *

Jean and I walked hand in hand up the pathway to my house. I invited him in. I regretted it two seconds later.

“Mijito, dónde has estado?” Mama was pacing the living room.

“Lo siento, I forgot to tell you I was going to homecoming,” I apologised. She noticed Jean.

“Quién es él? Es mariposo?” Mama asked.

“El es Jean. Y si, es mariposo,” I smiled. “El es mi novio.”

“Ahh, it’s nice to meet you, Jean,” Mama walked over to Jean and kissed him on the cheeks. “You two won the homecoming court?”

“Yeah, Jean was the one who was nominated, I was a write in for...uh ,well queen,” I chuckled.

“Oh, I have to show you all these cute pictures of little Marcito playing queen when he was younger-” 

“A-Actually, Jean has to get going,” I blushed. I ushered Jean to the door. 

“Call me,” Jean said, giving me a slow kiss on the lips. I smiled and shut the door when I remembered my mom had watched that happen.

“Spill, mijo. I wanna know all about your boyfriend,” Mama said. 

“Well, Jean’s new. We were friends since he started at Trost a few weeks ago and I kinda thought there was something there but I didn’t want to test it because I wasn’t sure if he like boys too, but he asked me to be his date to homecoming and we started going out not even a few hours ago,” I smiled.

“I’m glad you’ve found him. You’ve seemed so much happier lately, I knew there was a boy in your life,” Mama said. “Now you go make that phone call and don’t stay up all night talking to him. We have mass at 10.”

“Okay, Mama,” I said. She kissed my forehead before I went to my room. I changed out of my nice clothes and put the sash and crown ontop of my dresser and slipped into a T-shirt and my boxers when I heard the door open. I quickly hid my arms infront of me and faced away from the door.

“Mama! I’m changing!” I exclaimed.

“It’s me Marco, you left your wallet in my car,” Jean said. He came up from behind me and wrapped his arms around me, kissing my neck softly. He spun me around and I tried to hide it but it was too late. Jean’s eyes fell right on the scars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mijito, dónde has estado? = Where have you been?
> 
> Lo siento = I am sorry
> 
> Quién es él? Es mariposo? = Who is this? Is he gay?
> 
> El es Jean. Y si, es mariposo. El es mi novio. = This is Jean. And yes, he is gay. He's my boyfriend.


End file.
